A Little Chess
by beatleslover123
Summary: A relaxed evening with Ruth and Al. This takes place sometime around season 5, or wherever your imagination places it. And sorry for the corny ending. I hope I got all the facts accurate to the show. Hope you enjoy, and please R&R!


**I do not own anything Doc Martin nor am I officially affiliated with any of its production (I'm just one hell of a devoted fan. :) ).**

**This takes place sometime around season 5, or wherever your imagination places it. And sorry for the corny ending. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Switch it off, will you? I find I grow less fond of transmitted company as the day goes on," Ruth Ellingham requested of Al Large. He grabbed the remote and did as he was asked.

"Don't like afternoon telly then?" He asked, semi-sincerely.

"Most forms of modern entertainment bore me. I usually just have it on now and again to fill the silence. Even if I got proper reception out here, I still would find books and analyzing murderous psychotics more... productive. I suppose." Al grinned at this, amused at her, well, Ellingham-ish word choice. She put down her cup of tea and pulled out the chessboard her sister left. "...And board games. Fancy another game?"

"I'm up for it if you are," Al's grin turned half competitive.

"You're on." Ruth set out the board and Al helped her place the pieces in their proper squares. As the game progressed neither player said much, save for a minor reaction to the other player's actions now and again.

"Wha' was your line o' work, exactly? Back in London?" Al asked curiously. He had never really considered that part of her life before.

"Well, it still is my line of work. Just not as intensive and actively involved, especially now that I'm here in Cornwall." She made another decisive move, and Al looked on at her still, curiously. "Well I suppose I rather neglected your question," Ruth sighed, noticing Al's focus on her and not the game. "I worked with violent criminals in various mid- to high-security prisons. Sometimes criminally insane," Ruth said, Al's eyebrows raised. "And don't bother asking me what ever inspired me to do it; to this day I still haven't quite been able to figure that out." She smiled a small Ellingham smile. Al grinned.

"...What was it like? ...I mean, weren't you... afraid or anythin'?" Al inquired, making a small and uncomplicated move on the board. Ruth's focus went from Al's newly-moved piece to the wavering leaves on the bush outside her window, pausing to really ponder the question.

"I guess it never really occurred to me to be... afraid. There was always a prison guard in the rooms there with us... but even if there weren't," Ruth continued, making another move, "I don't think I would have been all that daunted by them." Al's eyebrows raised again.

"I mean... most people'd been pretty scared to be in a room, analyzin' the mind of a killer." Al remarked, making a counterstrike move on the board.

"Ooh, that was a good one," Ruth said, regarding his last move, and put her fingertip at her lower lip. "I suppose... I guess I just saw them as people. Sure, the things they described to me were... appalling, to say the least." Ruth made a hesitant next move, continuing: "But underneath all the callouses and damage and roughness lay a little human soul... just like the rest of us. I suppose it makes them less daunting once you can get past what they've done... and really just seeing them as humans." Al smiled, admiring her wise words. Al loved these times with Ruth. He loved his dad with all his heart, his crazy schemes and outlandish ideas, but it was nice to have Ruth to talk to. It was a bit like... well, it seemed foolish to him, but she was almost like a mother to him at times. He missed that.

Al noticed that Ruth had made a checkmatingly-fatal mistake in the last move she made, but pretended not to notice and took a weak alternate route so as to make the game last longer.

"What about you, Al? What gets you out of bed each day?" Al chuckled lightly and sighed.

"That's a heavy one, innit." Al said quietly. "Well, I used to have this girlfriend... Pauline. Used to work a' the surgery as the receptionist for the Doc. But she... well she followed a job. And I wa'n't part o' that. I guess," Al said sadly, moving another piece slowly.

"I am... truly sorry. That must have felt really horrible," Ruth comforted.

"Ahh... 'ts alright. Just means she weren't right for me, 's all." Al put on a half-smile. Ruth looked at him apologetically.

"Not to be... painfully cliche, but... well, you know. There are plenty of other fish in the sea."

"Yeah..." Al chuckled sadly, "My pop says exactly the same thing. Only usually he says it when he's lecturin' me about settlin' down and that." Ruth smiled at this, and made another move on the board.

"Well it's also true that marriage isn't for everyone. You must do just exactly what makes you, Al Large, happy and content with your life." Ruth smiled encouragingly.

"M' dad'd never suggest that, though." They shared a small laugh.

Time passed as they played seven more games. The sun had begun to sink low in the sky, and Al had not touched many of the chores for the farm.

"Oh, look at the time, 6:37. How it slipped away from me." Ruth looked at the clock, their seventh game finally at a close. "Well I suppose you'll just have to actually do chores tomorrow." Ruth smiled.

"'M sorry 'bout that, Dr. Ellingham."

"Please, Al, it's Ruth. And it was entirely my fault. I felt I needed to claim at least one victory before I let you run off." Ruth smiled. They simultaneously rose and went to the door.

"So, 1 tomorrow afternoon?" Al asked, grabbing his sweatshirt from the coat rack.

"1 o'clock it is." Al turned the doorknob. As he went out the door, Ruth wanted so badly to stop him and reassure him that he was a very good, and amazingly patieny lad; that he deserved a girl better than one who would run off for another job at the drop of a hat; that he was handsome, and capable, and approachable, and easygoing, and... well, she got to see qualities in him the past few months that would make anyone proud. Though she knew it wasn't her place. And that she wouldn't be able to find the right words without sounding terribly awkward if she actually tried to verbalize her admiration.

Al waved as he backed the scooter up to accelerate out the driveway. Ruth waved weakly back, but made up for it in a large smile. Or perhaps, in that instant, it was a genuine Large smile.


End file.
